


i think i love him

by jasondean



Series: modern au [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gay, Love Confessions, M/M, Underage Drinking, like ultra gay, sorta. i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6878620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>moritz got super hot over spring break and its been all melchiors been able to think about lately. besides graduation and all that entails, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

moritz stiefel has always been an interesting character.

he is always the one to stumble on his words, to let textbooks drop to the ground on relatively easy routes to and fro classrooms, to spill drinks and food on newly purchased shirts, to choke on his liquor all the way down, to take one drag of a cigarette and spew his lunch all over the floor, to trip over his own two feet when the whole teenage population is present.

to put it bluntly, moritz stiefel has always been an awkward mess of a human being.

during our teenage years, we are supposed to grow as humans, physically and mentally. we are supposed to shed this awkward skin we have obtained over the years we spend being children, odd habits and motions sticking to us just as old gum adheres to the innocent passerbys one hundred dollar doc martens. as our voices crack and our bodies reek and hair fills out on every place imaginable, we assume a new role as young adults in a world that yearns to knock us down.

embarrassing moments follow us all. isnt that rich, coming from melchior gabor, high schools resident hottie? but let me assure you: i speak the truth, and nothing but the truth. 

we move past these times. i am not the first boy to belt out the assigned solo in choir just to have his voice fall away and fail him miserably. nor am i the first boy who has ever struggled with a condom, or the specific art of pleasuring a lady. these sort of things take practice, and some of us perfect them while others are just beginning to fumble. 

moritz, for example. if we were running a mile, my time would be nine minutes and twenty-two seconds while his would barely enter the sixteen minute mark. 

but we all grow and figure it out in some way or another eventually. im lying to myself and the rest of the world when i say that i have.

ive never had the "pleasure" of encountering the rocky transition periods that hit moritz like a train going one thousand miles per hour, but i have had the privilege to go through everything a pubescent male goes through. i internalize it, and its easy to do, with the right amount of swagger and grooming.

senior year of high school is when the adults and the media really bare down on you. everything before this has been just a test, a preparation to make the final push into the adult world of working and producing as smooth as possible. 

i only see choppy waters ahead.

moritz has been my best friend ever since i can remember. i loved the feeling of control over someone, of being the sole guidance in someones life. and moritz was perfect for that, because ever since we were kids, everything out of his mouth has been a question. and he turns to me for the answers.

i love the feeling of being looked up to. now-a-days, i guess being "looked down on" is more appropriate, as moritz stands more than a couple of inches taller than me. lanky, tiny moritz, finally growing into his disproportioned body at the ripe age of seventeen -- no one saw it coming. i certainly didnt.

i also didnt see the idea of me sitting pretty at a pathetic five foot seven happening, either, nor did i foresee someone like moritz -- especially moritz -- having a firmer grasp on his future than i did mine. 

yesterday, he told me he will be going to america. his eyes shone so brightly as he made the announcement. some sort of scholarship or grant or something or other is providing the money he needs to travel and then his parents are paying for university on the promise his grades will remain the steady Cs and Bs they have come to be these last couple of years. all of it comes as a surprise, but the biggest one by far is that moritz -- squeamish, squealing, dizzied moritz -- will be a premed student. 

he looked to me for approval, his fierce hazel eyes basically begging for a thumbs up from me.

"thats, uh, great," id said. i didnt mean to sound disappointed. it just came out that way. his face fell into something so miserable, i felt like id just punched him. "really great." i never foresaw it being an issue to sound cheery around moritz, especially with such good news. "dont they have good universities here in germany?" first the disappointment, now the bitterness. i couldnt control myself for once in my life.

"america has always been my home," moritz said defiantly. "i thought you got that. i guess i was a fool for thinking you really got anything about me." he was cold, pushing past me as my brain raced to catch up and process his words still in the air.

he was gone by the time id formulated any kind of feasible response. thank whoever watches over me for that, really. it was hard enough on myself to be hit with the realization how much i would miss moritz when he was gone, and the jealousy that lingers in my heart that a clear-cut plan has presented itself to him before me.

today, he apologizes. we skip the last lesson of the day, something we may or may not have made a habit of depending on whos asking, and sit behind the bleachers in the back of the school. today, no one runs the ovular track thats to our backs, and no one is lingering around to finish a blunt. its just the two of us.

melchior and moritz, the only souls on earth. their hearts still beat, though they are not truly alive.

"melchi, i never meant to sound like such an ass, really. i just got pissed that you werent happy for me, because you know how hard its been for me with my adhd and my dyslexia and my depression. i know i already said im sorry, but god, melchi, i am! i am so sorry. i know its not that big of a deal for you. obviously, you wouldnt be jumping for joy for something so stupid."

he leans into me, and im afraid hell start crying. he already looks a little misty-eyed. i wrap an arm around his shoulders and squeeze him to me briefly, ruffling then smoothing his hair back down with my other hand. the first fight we had, moritz and i, was when we were little, probably only seven or so. i called him a crybaby and didnt talk to him for a week. when i started speaking to him again, he started crying again, and then he tried to say sorry for crying, which only made him cry more. as a kid, i thought it was a pathetic sight. now, i envy him for being able to wear his heart on his sleeve. as boys, we are told showing, even feeling, our emotions is a sign of weakness. its a message drilled into our brains. moritz never got the memo, i suppose, or he flat-out doesnt care -- either way, i respect it. if his father is anything like mine, a tear warrants a slap. 

(save for weddings, funerals, and your first time having sex)

"its fine, you big baby," i tease. i look down to see a smile forming on moritzs lips. i run my fingers through his hair and lean my head on his. the position we were once so accustomed to has become awkward with moritzs growth spurt, i realize. "of course its a big deal for me. why wouldnt it be?"

moritz shrugs. "well, you already know exactly what youre going to do for uni. hell, you already know exactly what youre going to do for your life."

those big brown eyes stare up at me. i cock a brow.

"and what exactly would that be, hm?"

"become a professor, marry someone pretty, and have two baby girls," he recites. "your lectures are your students favorites and they always come in for office hours. you go to church with your wife and children every sunday and wednesday, not because you believe in god, per se, but because you believe in family. your daughters feel safe to come to you with anything and they do because they know you love them, even for the mistakes theyve made. and they know you will never hit them, or leave them without food or shelter."

i wait for a few seconds before realizing moritz is done speaking. "where do you fit into this whole equation, eh, stiefel?"

"i dont. thats the beauty of it," he says, a sad grin on his face. "you dont have to pretend to care about me anymore."

"who said i was ever pretending?" i reply gently, my gaze moving away from moritzs expression to my hand busy playing with his unruly curls. he shrugs.

were silent for a few moments, letting the filtered sun from the bleachers wash over us. to think, in a couple of months time, itll all disappear from our minds.

i clear my throat. "i appreciate you thinking so highly of me, and its with much regret i say: bullshit. absolute bullshit."

moritz chuckles. "shut up. i was spot on, wasnt i? dont spare my feelings, melchi."

"but im not!" i exclaim. "first of all, i will never, _ever_ waste my life away being a professor to kids who dont give a fuck. second of all, i will die before i get married. ill be rotting before i have kids. theyre the devil."

"melchi," moritz mocks a gasp, sounding absolutely scandalized. "you arent open to the idea of change? thats a first!"

"not when it comes to my own mind, no. i know i will never be the guy overrun with a thousand squealing kids and an overbearing wife."

"if you say so."

"and let me tell you, moritz. i have no fucking clue where im going to school. i dont know if ill even go anywhere. im not determined like you, or charming like hanschen, or smart like ernst, or talented like georg. i have nothing, moritz. nothing at all." 

"youre handsome," he suggests. i laugh. "shut up. im not kidding. plus, i dont really get what youre saying... all the students here love you. you were the lead in the spring musical. you have some of the top grades in our class... and youre passion has always, and always will, outweigh mine. or any other person on this planet, for that matter," moritz hums, sitting up straight. i feel the lack of his presence immediately, my heart aching as i try to hold onto the lingering warmth from where moritzs head once rested. my hands move away from his hair and his shoulder, instead falling to my lap, where i pick at the grass at my feet.

"you really dont know?" he asks, tilting his head to the side in that adorable manner ive found he so often does. "no programs at all?"

i shake my head, feeling hot shame and embarrassment on my cheeks. "havent even looked into it, besides my dad and my mom shoving pamphlets in my face at every opportunity."

i know he doesnt mean for me to notice, but i see bitten back laughter plain as day on moritzs face. i dont hold it against him. neither of us really predicted that the tables would turn.

 "well, thats cool," he says with a shrug. "its not like i really even know if ill actually go through with this america stuff... its so far away. id miss everyone too much. plus, how am i even gonna keep up my grades if you arent there to help me study?"

"dont say that. youre just trying to make me feel better." the smile on his face lets me know im right. a pang in my heart wishes i wasnt.

"what do you want to do, melchi?" in response, i shake my head, shrug, claim the overused 'i dont know.'

its a lie. i know i will be an artist, one day. im no good with paints or charcoal, but i know i have a talent when it comes to words. there are so many scenes only words can describe bubbling in me, running through my veins as if they belonged there as much as oxygen itself. when i first entered high school, the words were burning hot and screaming of a better tomorrow brought from a young activists eyes. now, as the end comes near, they come up in the form of stanzas and lyrics in my brain, beautiful things i can barely grasp.

moritz is a waste as a doctor. he is made up of a thousand different thoughts and feelings welded perfectly together to form a single human being -- a human being who laughs along even when the laughter is directed at himself, a human being who cries and loves as equally as hard, where vengeance and bitterness are only fleeting thoughts and every action he makes is selfless even when his intentions are the opposite. hes a man carved from marble, like myths say, with long brown curls and golden-hazel eyes and a near-perfectly sloping nose with rosy lips disturbed by the trace of a scar on his cupids bow gotten from falling off the swing set as a kid. a man who thinks of himself as a boy, and carries himself as such, with the fear of showing off his best assets, hidden beneath ill fitting clothes.

no, hed serve so much better as my muse.

"maybe ill be a poet," i admit uneasily. "my parents would be so upset."

"when have you ever cared about what anyone thinks?" moritz says softly. his hand grasps my chin, turning my focus to him instead of the ground ive been staring holes into for the majority of this turn of conversation. his fingers, not as rough as i thought theyd be, slowly move themselves away from my face. oh, do i wish they had stayed.

i shake my head slowly, wondering if he knows how intense his gaze is. "never. i never have."

melchior gabor does not get nervous. his heart does not race and he does not have to struggle to keep his hands from shaking. he doesnt ever realize with dread how hot his face and ears are.

who am i, then? 

i dont know if moritz notices that i lean in closer to him so that our faces are mere centimeters apart. my gaze flickers to his lips and then returns to eye contact, where moritz looks vaguely confused. 

but, he does not move away.

i do.

for the first time in his life, melchior gabor has backed down. 

it leaves me feeling lightheaded and chilled, like someone has forced my face into a bucket of ice cubes and water. i say something or another about how school is ending and moritz agrees, the confusion still painted on his face. when we were kids, hell, probably even in freshman year, hed pursue his curiosity, bug me about what i was trying to achieve with the signals i never expected him to catch on to.

we walk home together, as we always have. i cant help but glance over at moritz every so often. hes not very attentive but he has to notice, with how much im staring.

(hes a distraction -- i almost trip over my own shoelaces)

"melchior, whats up?" he says finally. we both stop. "youre looking at me funny. i feel like i shouldnt have brought up uni in the first place," he admits. "you look so... sad."

"on the contrary, herr stiefel."

he cracks a smile. "of course you pretend to be happy with the expression of someone who just watched his dog get run over by a car."

"im just thinking."

he sighs. "youre always thinking, melchi."

"maybe i think too much," i admit.

moritz agrees right away. "it must be stressful, being a kid genius and all," he teases. "why dont you try the moritz way?"

"and whats the moritz way, huh?" 

he ignores my eye roll. "no thinking at all," he says cheerfully.

"if you didnt think at all, youd be dead," i point out with a smirk.

"shut _up_. act first, think later," he rephrases. 

i shrug. "maybe i could get behind that," i muse.

"i have a feeling youre too stuck in your ways."

"then what do you call this?"

_this_? id call it impulsive. stupid, maybe. thats what i think when i jerk moritz to me by the shoulder and kiss him. unbeknownst to moritz (and my parents), ive kissed boys before. hell, ive even drunkenly fucked a boy before (thank you hanschen, for your patience with my drunken ass that couldnt figure out for the life of him what went where). so, i dont want to call this new, the feeling of a mans lips against my own, but it is. it is so, so new. i think its because theres feeling behind it, years and years of built up feeling.

order has been restored, because moritz is not good at this. he doesnt pull away or anything, instead he freezes for a couple of seconds while i try to get some kind of reaction out of him. its awkward and clumsy -- i say this both about trying to kiss someone who refuses to move his lips at all and about moritzs attempts at the act itself. but, fuck, moritz is kissing me back.

(and he sucks, like, so badly)

my hands move to the collar of his shirt, which i grip so hard im sure my knuckles turn white. shit, im kissing moritz stiefel.

(okay, seriously, even wendla was better than this)

i finally pull away, releasing myself from him. my arms land awkwardly to my sides. moritz looks at me, his lips parted slightly, looking dazed. i want to leave him with a smile on my face and confidence in my step, just to show that,  _hey, im still more experienced than you, i still have power_ , but i cant. i havent been afraid, really afraid, in so long. the last time i remember being afraid was when moritz and i were crossing a "bridge" wed made with loose branches and duct tape hanging over the river by our homes. moritz waited on the other side while i tested out the bridge, which held against my slight weight. then, against all odds, i slipped. 

in the nanosecond in which i fell, i was truly afraid. everything turned out okay, because the river was way lower than usual and we were playing in the shallower regions anyways. but i was so scared. i thought i would hit my head on a rock, drown, and die. i never told moritz this, of course.

right now? i feel exactly like i did then. except, this time im not blessed with the feeling only lasting for so little. it stretches out, dropping and crawling in my stomach and down my back. why isnt he saying anything? he should be saying something, right? why havent i felt like this before?

i kissed wendla, and i wasnt fearful, not even when she was silent and even when she didnt kiss back for so long. kissing thea and anna was nothing because i knew they had it bad for me, their silence was just girlish happiness and only for a heartbeat was there no talking -- then there was tons of talking, rambling on and on about how we should date and _blah blah blah_. i dont even know if me or hanschen made the first move, but he was so easy. i only felt disappointment when martha revealed shed only kissed me in hopes to get moritz jealous. nothing like this growing dread.

i give him some finger guns.  _pow, pow!_ he still just stands there, silent as ever. fuck my life.

he moves a hand through his hair and sighs, looking away from me. "please dont play with me," he says, his voice shaking. "dont."

"what?"

"dont fucking do this. dont play dumb. dont pretend you dont have some... some morbid curiosity of what im like with a broken heart... dont get my hopes up."

after demonstrating the most balls anyones ever seen on him, moritz walks away. i watch him go, speechless. it feels like someone stabbed me in the heart. i forgot that moritz isnt just another admirer of mine whos too blind from infatuation to see past me. he knows what i do. he knows i go through people like i go through cigarettes. he knows i love a challenge.

thats the issue with a best friend. they see the best of you, and they see the worst of you.

i finally turn back to walk to my house, listening to the grass crunch under my feet. _fuck_. fuck me. 

i think i love him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing beats some quality girl talk.

spring is, arguably, the best season. flowers bloom, baby animals take in their first looks at the world, and the sun shines all the time without the dizzying heat associated with july. plus, the green that flourishes and makes the other hints of color pop never gets old. a good portion of the population likes to complain about allergies attributed to the new growth, but that in itself is something of a rebirth of clearing your sinuses and lungs, however miserable it may be.

its like i blinked and it was over. there is no fucking way what im experiencing now -- stuffing ice down my boxers and my socks, opening the freezer only to let the cool air blow on my face, defeatedly sitting in front of a fan clicking away on full blast -- is spring. the calendar is bullshit, claiming summer begins in june, because im going through all the motions and its barely may.

the unbearable heat makes studying way more difficult than it needs to be. ive never been bad at studying and completing my schoolwork, but the feeling of the sun cooking your brain will slow you down a bit. its not like the end of school coming up is any help, either. what does flunking just one last test matter? ive gotten a stellar gpa across my whole high school career, dammit, let me _live_.

i once read something online that said perfectionists tend to be procrastinators. if that isnt the truest shit ive seen on the internet.

 with my work, i turn it in completely over-the-top, sparkly, and new, or i dont turn it in at all. no motivation? ill find a way to push it off until im hit with an idea. (or until its completely dire, i suppose) i must say, in terms of procrastination, im somewhat of a master. i go to such lengths to distract myself that its vaguely impressive -- thats what hanschen told me after i photoshopped ernsts head onto chris evans body and emailed it to him at 1 in the morning.

so, the idea of chilling with my ex-girlfriend wasnt unwelcome. in fact, i jumped at the invitation. destroying wendla at super smash bros? sign me the fuck up.

wendla graduated last year even though shes the same age as me. ive always known that shes ultra smart while everyone else paid very little attention to her. i never really understood why wendla was so eager to take on more classes during the summer to graduate early. it was something that i could have done, in fact, something wendla tried to push me to do, but my interest really lies in extending the time i have here, not rushing on to the next thing. 

we dont chit-chat about what its like at college or if shes made any new friends. we just get right down to business; as usual, wendla plays kirby while i play lucas. 

"MELCHIOR, I SWEAR TO GOD YOU ARE A DIRTY, NO-GOOD CHEATER!"

i snicker as the screen cuts to a celebrating lucas while kirby and the comps look on sadly.

"its called skill, sweetheart. maybe you wouldnt yell so much if you had some." wendla shoves me with enough force that i nearly fall off her bed.

the commotion causes a concerned herr bergmann to open the door and peer into the room. wendla quickly mutes the game and looks to him, fidgeting with the controller in her hands.

"the door stays open," he says, his eyes flickering to me. i give a short wave. with that, he pushes the door all the way open and stalks back to the kitchen.

"jesus christ, youd think hed trust us more."

wendla tucks a strand of hair behind one of her ears. "well, can you blame him? he did walk in on us... yknow..."

"if youd just told me your dad was home..."

"cmon, melchi, i had no idea he was home!" she whines. "can we stop talking about this?" she pleads, pouting slightly.

"oh my, wendla, im so sorry. of course. it must be hell to be around your old high school flame when you already have a boy waiting back at school," i say with fake sympathy.

 "as if," she snorts. "for one, you are  _not_ my 'old high school flame.' youre a dork i only made the mistake of going out with just to impress the girls. also, i dont have a boy waiting back at school," she says.

"whats his name?" i pry, reaching for the remote to turn off the tv.

"i just said theres no one, doof."

but shes blushing hard. "hmm, i think youre lying, wendla bergmann," i say, leaning back on the bed. i close my eyes, moving my arms to cushion my head.

"well, how about you?" its a classic move, pushing the attention back onto me. she was always the best detective back when we used to play pretend. 

"you really expect me to get over you? no, wendla, my dear. my mind has only ever been on you," i say dramatically, feeling the mattress shift as wendla surely lays beside me.

"mhmm," she says dryly. "im sure thats exactly why you went around sleeping with every girl in the school."

im silent, my good mood seeped away with the reminder of my disagreeable dating habits. i never really cared about being known as a 'player.' i just really enjoy toying with people for my own amusement, as sick as that sounds. sometimes i really did think true love might bloom from a hastily formed relationship, but the novelty would wear off the moment she reciprocated my romantic feelings. wendla was somewhat of an exception. i really did want it to work with her -- thats what all guys say about their first girlfriends, im sure. but she dumped me after months of struggling with my disinterest.

_a word of advice? dont string the next poor girl along when you obviously dont give a flying fuck about her._

that was the first time id ever heard wendla curse. her voice was shaking at the time, but the message got through to me. im not a naturally cruel person; i just want to have some fun...

i cant help but replay moritzs words from yesterday in my mind.  _dont get my hopes up._

"melchior, im sorry. i never really thought it bugged you or anything. just ignore me."

"no, wendla, its cool. i just... sort of caught feelings for someone, i guess," i say with a shrug. "and he doesnt want anything to do with me, like, romantically, cause of my track record."

"what?! melchior gabor has  _feelings_!?"

"wendla, youre a real dick, you know that?"

"hey, no, no, no, let me just -- wait, wait, speaking of, did you say 'he?' i  _knew_ you were gay. seriously, it was so obvious, with all that theatre stuff and the clothes and--"

"im not gay! stop stereotyping me!" i groan, placing an arm over my eyes. wendla erupts into a fit of giggles. "hey, no, im not in denial or anything like that! its just, im not, okay? im really into chicks, it also happens to be that im really into hot guys... like, im just super into sex in general."

"god, you are  _so_ shallow!" she squeaks, trying to catch her breath. "and such a boy! im sorry melchi, i dont mean to laugh, but,  _wow_. listen to yourself."

"it doesnt matter, emotional connections are overrated. im starting to feel like just being with you right now is a waste of time."

"i know youre only saying that because youre bitter you were rejected and you really do love me and you love being my friend," she says brightly. "can i ask who this guy is? do i know him? oooh, is it max? hes like, really out and proud and super cute, right?"

i let my arm rest back by my side and roll my eyes. "max graduated ages ago. or he dropped out. i forget. want to look him up on google and facebook stalk him?"

"dont change the subject, bucko."

"fine. moritz. its moritz. i have it bad for moritz fucking stiefel. laugh all you want."

but there is no laughter. wendla stays silent, giving me a knowing look. "yeah, he did get really hunky, huh?" she says. i feel all the defensive statements ive built up die in my throat as the teasing stops abruptly.

"hes always been cute. its not like ive never noticed him. it was just a lot easier to ignore it when he wasnt so hot, yknow?" i sigh, shaking my head slightly. "i just feel like id fuck things up between us. like, i know how i feel, i always have, but im just... ugh. this is stupid. im just really afraid one day ill wake up being completely bored of him."

"aww, melchior..."

"and, its not even like im worrying about our friendship being ruined because of it. i just like the feeling of being so into a person and wanting to be around them so much that im afraid ill be alone when its gone."

wendla turns her head to look at me. she shrugs, her expression saying,  _what can ya do?_ i look back up at the ceiling, sighing. there are so much worse things out in the world, like kids starving and murders and things like that. but my world is a lot smaller than that, and this whole confusing mess with moritz is a big part of it.

"youre a good guy, melchior. even if you act like a douche a lot of the times, you are. i know its easier said than done or whatever... but dont worry so much about it, okay? its not the end of the world if you never end up with a wife -- er, or a husband. dont think too much about it."

i smile, just a bit. "hm. thats what moritz said. dont think."

"feel it out, melchi, its a lot less stressful that way," wendla advises. "do you maybe want to stay over for dinner? or want to play another round of smash?"

"nah, i actually have some homework due monday."

"youd better get going, then."

"yeah, guess so," i sit up and roll off of the bed, looking back at wendla, who lays on her back, watching me as she twirls a piece of her long brown hair around her finger. i clear my throat. "lets maybe do this again sometime, okay? ive really missed you."

she smiles, only the slightest trace of sadness on her lovely face. "ive missed you too, melchi. let me know when you finally get with him, okay?"

her request is gentle and hushed, topped with a thumbs up. i grin back at her.

"yeah, okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *screws up characterization*  
> me: hahahaha its just because they are more grown up and have had different experiences in a modern setting :)  
> me: (fuck dude dont fool urself.....)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trying to start a (for once in there lives) serious convo in moritzs attic/room

ilse ran away from home when she was sixteen years old. the only note she left was her reasoning why, detailing her fathers abuse as well as her growing misery at school, where she was often ignored altogether. weeks later, after her parents filed a missing persons report, she was tracked down living with a group of artists, all runaways in their twenties. i remember when they brought her home -- everyone was so relieved, they all wanted a chance to get a photo-op or a word in with our small towns girl-gone-missing. her stares were blank as she answered questions from girls shed used to play with or shop owners she used to get samples from, a chilling expression of detachment haunting her face. 

i remember welcoming her home, saying something like how she really gave us a scare. (that was a lie; off-beat ilse was barely missed around school) her reply was simply a thank you, and then in a quieter, lower voice, shed said;

"i was really happy there. it was like id died and gone to heaven. i wish they didnt take me away, because its so beautiful there, even when things were rough. it was free and it couldve been my home."

i pretended like i understood, and i am certain she knew i was lying as i nodded along and muttered something or another about how it was all understandable. in reality, i didnt understand at all; ilses father was a nice man who served us kids lemonade and spent hours and hours building a treehouse in the neumanns backyard, just so his daughter and her friends could have a place truly to themselves that wasnt as dark and abandoned as the playground down the road. i hate that i doubted, but everyone did. it was months and months after ilses return when herr neumann was sentenced and put behind bars. no one in town had any interest in seeing the evidence that convicted him, but it was a horrible feeling to know that record of such a terrible thing existed in a place we considered so safe.

"they wouldnt let me bring my paintings," she had told me, going from stoic to visibly upset. "i painted so much, because you know my parents, they never let me anywhere near a canvas. when im out of here, for good, when im eighteen, ill send you and wendla and moritz my work. all signed. because one day, everyone in this shithole of a town is going to know my name."

true on her word, ilse disappeared from sight two years later.

my father sent me to get the mail today, not wanting to face the unbearable summer-like heat that bares its wrath even as the sun sets. its not an incredibly long walk from our house to the neighborhood mailboxes that all stand in a line at the end of a corner for the sake of the postmans convenience,  but its enough with the obnoxious heat to make me try to refuse and slip out of it. nothing worked. all i got was a lecture about how im a lazy excuse for a son and how all i do is screw around and sleep all day and how i should be working and how if i dont get up and get the mail right now ill be sorry.

ugh. dads.

i reach my hand into the mailbox to get the mail, but theres only one envelope waiting. the looped elegance of cursive sprawled across catches my eye, fitting beautifully with the neatly placed stamp picturing a mourning dove. the first name i recognize is  _ilse neumann_ , then  _melchior gabor_. instead of interrupting the drawn out silence between us with a casual text, ilse sends a letter. go figure. the girl has always done things her own way. perhaps were more alike then ive ever cared to imagine.

i carefully open the envelope, a habit my parents love to make fun of (its not my duty to ruin an envelopes pristine condition, alright? a tree died so it could be in my hands, ill show it some respect), and find myself holding a square of cardboard paper. a simple scene is painted on, beauty and attention to detail clearly evident. i recognize the painting as the treehouse from ilses childhood and four tiny figures i can only assume are people -- me, moritz, ilse, and wendla. the bottom of the card has ilses signature on the bottom, written with what i guess is a fountain pen of some sort. the ink feathers just a bit, adding the authenticity to the careless, casual nature of the thing. 

i turn the paper around, searching for a note, but i get none. huh.

i slip the paper back into the envelope. for some reason, i think about how ilse passed by here, the town she was born and raised in, like the wind, blowing and gusting around, where people take notice but not before the air stills and shes gone completely. maybe thats how ill be. maybe my time right now is just spent repeating the same dull pattern of a day over and over so i can discover a permanent place later. i dont have to be like wendla, whos always known she was going to be a teacher, or moritz, who has the entire next leg of his education planned out in perfect detail.

maybe ill be like ilse, letting lifes waves rock me to where im destined to be.

i grip ilses letter-with-no-words in my hand and find myself walking in the opposite direction of my house. i know where my legs are taking me -- to the stiefels place, which is much, much closer to the mailbox than my own house. for one, wendlas pep talk and ilses little note has made me want to see moritz again despite the awkwardness that has come between us. second of all, im not in the mood to have my father yell at me for something or other...

adults always berate us to exert control. its so tiring. im not some rebel who goes against my fathers religious beliefs and political views just to spite him; im just living my life as a human being.

why do they even have us if they just expect us to be their simple-minded slaves for the rest of our lives?

i ring the doorbell to moritzs home, and the front door immediately swings open to show frau stiefel. her face immediately lights up when she sees me. "herr gabor! come in, please, moritz has been in his room all weekend, its just been the worst. you know how he is. really, please, he could use some human interaction."

i go ahead and enter the house, letting moritzs mom lead me over to the staircase that leads to her sons room. "you really dont have to worry so much about him, you know," i say. "hell be fine. ill make sure of it."

frau stiefels face erupts into a wide grin, and i feel like she might start crying and embrace me or maybe shove a plate of homemade cookies in my face. "you are such a sweetheart. moritz is so, so lucky to have you as friend," she says. im correct about the embrace part, because she leans in to give me a quick squeeze before turning away and leaving me at the stairs.

i always feel like im going to fall to my death when i climb the ascent to moritzs bedroom -- see, his bedroom was remodeled from the stiefels old attic, so the stairs were placed later, and i always suspected herr stiefel cheaped out on the steps.

"surprise!" i say in a sing-song voice as i push open the bedroom door. moritz looks at me, not phased in the slightest from my sudden appearance. weve sort of made it a habit to pop up in each others houses unannounced.

(it can be a little awkward sometimes, because ive had moritz chilling out in my living room when i brought home a girl late at night, and i suspect ive walked in on moritz beating off on more than one occasion)

"hi melchi," he says cheerfully. im fairly relaxed, because i know moritz wont ever bring up what happened first. but i can still feel the tension between us -- i wonder if its just my acute senses or if its something actually there that moritz feels too. whatever the case, we both ignore it. 

i hop onto his bed, the mattress sinking a bit from my weight. in moritzs hands is some book i think we had assigned for reading back in junior high that hed "accidentally" stolen from the library. what an absolute dork. hell be reading this thing all night. "moritz, my bro, my dude, my man, my buddy, my friend..." he gives me an exasperated look, dog-earing the open page of the book and closing it shut. "...how goes it?"

he shrugs, setting the book on a nightstand sitting by his bed and crawling out of the covers to sit by me. his eyes immediately wander to the envelope still clasped in my hands.

"whats that?" he asks curiously.

"oh, its from ilse. its this little doodle painting thing. here," i say, taking the letter out of the envelope and handing it to moritz. he smiles. he has always been closest to ilse, even when she pushed everyone away, he still made an effort to be around somewhat. when we played house as kids, ilse and moritz were always the "mommy" and the "daddy." 

(of course, it wasnt really any fun because wendla would play the sister and then everyone would get pissed at me because i wouldnt go along with the whole mom-dad-daughter-son thing and with my burning desire to be a dog, so id argue dogs were apart of a family even if they dont do anything but sleep and eat. theyd all begrudgingly accept my explanation and let me crawl around and fake-bark to my little hearts content)

"its really beautiful," he says, pressing the picture back into my hands. i lay it, along with the envelope, down on moritzs bed. "ilse will be working for disney someday, making concept art and designing stuff and whatever. and well get to say we grew up with her."

"i think thats exactly what she had in mind," i say. 

the conversation shifts from ilse to painfully awkward small talk. i dont mean to brag, but small talk with someone like me usually isnt an issue at all and its moved past very quickly with the conversations im involved in -- this time? different, for some reason. we just go back and forth about grades and finals and whatever until i cant take it anymore.

"okay, lets stop," i say abruptly.

"what?"

"lets stop this, whatever were doing right now. its weird as fuck, just like, pretending nothing happened and trying to act normal or whatever."

moritz shifts uncomfortably. "what do you mean? im fine, melchi. i really am. im not trying to do anything."

"can we just talk?"

"theres nothing to talk about, melchior," he says, looking at me with pleading eyes. he fidgets with his sheets in his hands. its a nervous habit that used to bug me to no end, so much so that id basically trap his hands in mine and squeeze them together so he wasnt able to move them at all.

i roll my eyes, shaking my head slightly. as i predicted, moritz doesnt comment on my reaction at all, just happy that ive dropped the subject.

i dont feel like dropping it, though. talking to moritz about stuff has always been easy. i want to talk to him about this.

then, my phone resting deep inside one of my front pockets buzzes and produces a short  _ding_ ,indicating ive received a text. moritzs eyes dart to my phone and follow my hands as i raise the device up to read the message.

_big dick thunder horse: Wow I got Ernst to host a party while his parents are at the lake I'm dead._  
_big dick thunder horse: I'm not actually dead by the by.Its a figure of speech, don't yell at me_  
 _big dick thunder horse: Anyway we have beer_

moritz peers over my shoulder, reading the texts for himself. "whos that?"

"hanschen," i reply.

"whys his name like that...?"

"not really sure. i think it was ironic, i never got around to changing it. im pretty sure im in his phone as mel-mel."

"oh my god."

"right?"

i start texting back, but moritz interrupts again.

"are you going?"

"nah," i say, but then, i pause, the tapping of my fingers on the screen freezing. then, i press the backspace and erase the whole thing. hm. i  _did_ tell frau stiefel id make sure moritz would be okay, didnt i?

" _were_ going, though," i announce with a devilish grin.

"but its sunday."

"schools basically over."

"and what if i dont want to go?"

"too bad. this is what you get for being cooped up in your room all weekend."

with that, i hop up and grab moritz by the arm, pulling him along. i give him a clap on the back and he flinches.

"moritz stiefel, i promise you, youll be a seasoned party boy by the end of the night."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "underage drinking is terrible" moritz says as he pours himself more beer

it takes a bit of convincing to get moritz to finally agree. we go back and forth for a long time before he begrudgingly accepts his fate for the night.

right now, he shifts through the clothes in his closet, apparently his current attire not cool enough for a house party. i sit on his bed and watch as he pushes hangers aside and grabs different clothes. my eyes follow his hands as he puts the small pile hes collected down next to where i sit, and then he sets it out in a familiar first-day-of-school-outfit fashion.

hes picked out some dark blue pants, a simple white shirt, and a leather jacket that belongs to me. or, used to belong to me. i think moritz swiped it back in our sophomore year of high school and he never bothered to return it. no use bringing it up now, i suppose. the things so old and worn i dont want it anyway, but i do wonder to myself whether or not moritz actually remembers it used to be mine. i wonder if he thinks about me when he wears it...

"okay, shoo," he says.

"hm?"

"i need to change."

i roll my eyes. "then change."

he gives me a pointed look, trying to convey something with just a gaze. i frown.

"seriously? dude, we change in front of each other all the time. its not that big of a deal."

"its just--" he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "its not--its not a big deal, i guess, but--"

"is it because i kissed you?" i ask bluntly. shock is slapped against his face. i guess he really didnt think i seriously wanted to bring it up. i know moritz never would, and if he did, he definitely wouldnt just say it out right. but, hey, it happened. i dont think it changes anything.

"n--uh, yeah. yeah..." he looks flustered. his gaze goes back to his clothes.

"okay, fine," i say, getting up. he cowers from my hurt expression. i move towards the bedroom door and push it open. easy. simple as that. its really not a big deal. i dont know why im even upset. sometimes friends dont change in front of friends. its cool.

"melchi, its not that im afraid youd--"

"no, i get it." i shut the door behind me before he can finish. i mess with my phone while i wait for moritz to reappear. on saturday, i told wendla i wasnt all that afraid of ruining my friendship with moritz more than i was ruining a feeling that i liked. and i thought that was the case. but now -- moritz not trusting me -- it actually hurts. like my heart is physically breaking into a thousand microscopic separate pieces. 

there are a million other moritzs in the world. if he doesnt want to be my friend, there will be another dorky boy to take his place. 

im an idiot for only wanting this particular dorky boy.

i tell hanschen well be there soon when the doorknob turns and moritz leaves the room. hes dressed now in feasible casual clothes instead of stained pajamas, now, at least, as well as some shoes. i slip my phone into my back pocket and look over him. "damn, stiefel, lookin good! no homo."

he pushes past me, annoyed. "what? i just said no homo." i speed up and catch up to him, hopping down the stairs behind him. "cant a dude compliment a dude and point its nothing gay? cmon. i was being nice."

"just dont say it," he says as he reaches the end of the steps, turning back to me. "please?"

"okay. half homo?" he groans. "how about three quarters homo? full homo?" i catch him smiling before he turns away from me. 

we have to make our way through the living room before we reach the front door. frau stiefel intercepts us there, watching a soap opera by the looks of it. i get a little entranced by the screen, which shows a passionate make out scene between a man and a woman, then cutting to another woman who gasps and begins to yell. moritz tugs on my sleeve, giving me a look that says,  _lets get out of here before she notices us._

"herr gabor!" moritzs face falls as his mother mutes the tv and directs her attention to us. "are you leaving already?"

"no, mama." moritz is the one to answer. "ernst just invited us over."

she frowns, giving us a suspicious look. "i thought frau robel told me that she and her husband were going to be at the lake until next week."

"uh, he meant hanschen," i reply quickly. its not  _technically_ a lie. after all, it  _was_ hanschen that invited us over... to ernsts house. but still. "hanschen just texted me and asked if i wanted to come over. i said i was at moritzs and he told me he could tag along."

frau stiefel seems to accept the tale, turning her attention back to her tv. "okay, well, you boys have fun," she says as we slip out the door. i hear her turn the volume back on just as a gunshot rings out on the tv.

i turn to glare at moritz as soon as were outside.

"im sorry!" he squeaks. "i didnt realize frau robel and my mom were on such good terms!"

"whatd you expect?! its not like this is  _desperate housewives_! there is  _literally_ no reason they wouldnt be talking."

he shrugs. "fine, fine. youre right. lets just walk and talk."

we start walking but we forget the talking. its completely dark now, save for the light of the full moon and the stars. i daresay its even a bit chilly -- at least compared to the previous scalding heat of the day. i look over at moritz by my side, and see hes staring at his shoes. i shrug it off and look back ahead. its not that long of a walk from moritzs place to ernsts, but it feels like its going to take forever with how quiet it is.

"are you gay?" moritz pipes up suddenly. "shit. shit. im sorry. i didnt mean to just, like, say it like that, oh my god. im fine with you being gay, i am! i mean, my dad says it a sin and all, but we all sin! so, like, im not saying--"

"no offense, but shut up." he does so, moving a hand over his mouth like he has to add an extra barrier to make sure his lips dont move again. hes such a weirdo. an incredibly cute weirdo. "i dont know if im gay."

"you dont know?" i guess the hand thing didnt do the trick. "how do you not know?"

i shrug. "how do you know youre straight?"

he doesnt say anything. i feel his hurt and embarrassment as if it were my own. i open my mouth to speak again, to try and explain with a bit less venom and bite, but he tells me to drop it before i even get the chance to.

i know were at ernsts house before i even get to the door. im quite impressed with hanschens work on the party, because i can hear the thumping of music coming from inside. we approach the front door, where some of the more popular freshman from our school are lurking with red solo cups in their hands and gossiping. their whispers stop when they see me and moritz, instead they just stare wide-eyed. i dont really get what the big deal is. i dont feel like a big scary upperclassmen, and moritz is the hugest loser on the planet, as ive already established.

moritzs hand moves to press the doorbell and i slap it away. "trust me, the doors unlocked. no one will hear it anyway." im correct, and i turn the doorknob, pushing the door to ernsts recently trashed house open. i dont know when exactly hanschen got the idea for a party, but it must have been a while ago, because one look inside and i can already see there will be an ultra fun clean-up tomorrow morning.

i look back at the freshman who awkwardly stick close to each other, swaying to the beat of the muffled music and sipping from their cups. "you dont want to come inside?" i ask them. they glance at each other and shake their heads slowly. "okay, suit yourselves."

"are you melchior gabor?" one of them asks. shes a small blonde girl with a baby face thats contrasted by an extreme amount of mascara, smudging all around and making her look like a panda. a baby panda. i have the sudden urge to slap the cup thats surely filled with cheap beer out of her hands. 

"nope," i reply, gesturing for moritz to go in ahead of me. i follow him inside, hearing another girl mumble something about how i didnt need to lie and be so rude. i let the door fall shut closed behind us, and take a look around at the scene.

its not as big as i first assumed, but still, an impressive amount of people are milling around. i see a guy drunkenly rambling on a couch while about three girls listen to him and giggle about his embarrassingly intoxicated state. some girl is trying to get karaoke to work on the tv but cant figure out how to get the sound on, so she sings loudly off-tune, which just mingles and sounds even shittier with the already present music. i feel moritz pressing close to me after almost being shoved out of the doorway by someone outside.

"can we find hanschen and ernst?" moritz asks over the music. i agree with a nod, and we start walking around.

moritz sticks by me uncomfortably as i get greeted by people with hugs and slaps on the back (and occasionally the ass, woops), making him hyper-aware of his own lack of popularity. for his sake, i zip through the conversations until georg pops up from seemingly no where.

"hey, melchior," he says. "holy shit, is that moritz? i thought you werent into hanschens parties."

"hes not," i reply. "were actually looking for hanschen. you know where he is?"

he shrugs, thinking a bit before supplying us with an answer. "i think i saw him getting a wine cooler for thea back in the kitchen."

"cool, thanks."

moritz and i go to the kitchen, which isnt hard to find at all considering weve been over to ernsts for countless sleepovers, not to mention all the houses in the neighborhood have nearly identical layouts. 

i guess thea left as soon as she got her wine cooler, but hanschen is definitely still in the kitchen. in fact, so is ernst, so, thats two birds with one stone.

hanschen has ernst pressed up against a wall, and im incredibly thankful for the music being slightly too loud because it covers up the high chance of moans and sloppy slobbering going on. not only does hanschen seem to be wooing ernst with his soft lips and smooth hands, hes also basically carrying ernst, who has his legs wrapped around the blonds waist. i know he gets some help from the wall and ernst being a bit of a smaller dude, but christ, man. i hope they havent been going at it too long.

moritz has frozen beside me, awkwardly taking in the scene. i clear my throat. no reaction. i clear my throat again, louder. no reaction.

"YOOOOOO."

that gets their attention. they move apart from each other quickly, ernst still staying pressed up to the wall (this time with his feet on the ground) and blushing profusely while hanschen strolls over to us with no shame over his mussed up hair or marked up neck at all. moritz still hasnt moved or said a word.

"sorry man. hey, its moritz, nice surprise," he hums, raising his right hand in the air. theres an awkward pause before moritz lamely high fives him. hanschen doesnt seem to care at all. its clear to me hes more than a little tipsy. hanschen is always a lot more tolerable when he has a few beers in him, because suddenly his arrogance and snark fades into this foreign warm easy-going attitude. i probably wouldnt like him at all if we hadnt become established hangover buddies. friends who suffer together, stay together.

"ernst, look, lookie. its moritz," hanschen calls back to ernst, his voice way too loud considering the kitchen isnt anything close to a large enough space where raising your voice would be appropriate, well, ever.

"yeah, i see," ernst says flatly, straightening up and walking over to us. hes not as drunk as hanschen, if hes had anything at all. "hey, moritz. sorry."

"u-uh, no, its cool," moritz says, speaking for the second or so time since we entered ernsts house. he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"want a beer?" hanschen asks me. i give him a thumbs up, then he looks to moritz. 

"yeah, sure. what the hell." i look over to moritz and raise a brow, smiling at him. "whats the worst that could happen?"

"entering a coma and dying from alcohol poisoning?" 

he elbows me, hard. im rubbing my side when hanschen comes back with three beer cans, offering two to me and moritz, which we take. ernst quickly swipes the other can, and hanschen gives him a dirty look. i sort of hope hanschen and ernst last, at least until we graduate. hanschen needs someone to keep him from binge drinking until his liver gives out.

moritz winces as he downs some of his beer, as do i. hanschen has the worst fucking taste. or hes just cheap, which would be absolutely hilarious, considering hes probably the richest out of anyone in this house.

"cmon, boys. this is a party, right?" hanschen grins, letting his arm rest on ernsts shoulder, leaning into him.

and damn right, it is. somehow, hanschen loops us into some drinking games (ernst refuses to let him join in, nagging him about how hes already had enough alcohol in his system to last him a lifetime), and im stunned at how moritz gets used to the taste of the cheap beer so quickly. soon, the beer in my hands is empty and all four of us are moving to and from the living room and the kitchen. i dont even taste the second beer, and im on my third when hanschen herds us all into ernsts parents bedroom claiming he has to take a piss. 

"please dont miss the toilet," ernst says, leaning against the immediate wall from the bathroom door, his face red from the alcohol. 

"dont you worry, babes. im a master at drunk pissing," hanschen calls back, not bothering to close the door behind him. moritz starts laughing, which makes me start laughing, which makes ernst start laughing. we just start laughing louder when hanschen yells at us. "why cant a man take a piss in peace?!"

"you... you told us to come with you!" moritz wheezes. "because you didnt..." he starts cracking up again. "you didnt want to be alone! oh my god, who does that? why do we have to talk to you when youre pissing?" ernst got the right idea, using the wall as support, because i feel like moritz might just topple over if hes not careful.

the toilet flushes and hanschen struggles with his belt for a bit before reappearing. "wash your hands, oh my god," i say, pointing back at the bathroom. he rolls his eyes and goes back. we hear water running, and then a few moments later we hear the sound of hanschen retching and his vomit hitting what i hope is the toilet and not the sink.

"fuck," ernst mutters, straightening up and going into the bathroom. moritz and i are still laughing, a bit more quietly. it dies out mostly because we forgot what we were laughing about, hanschen missing the toilet or hanschen throwing up or something else entirely. oh well.

ernst and hanschen come back out of the bathroom, bickering about whether or not hanschen should crash on ernsts bed. 

"you just threw up! you really think im going to spend the entire day tomorrow cleaning up your puke on everything my parents own?"

"you would if i do," he points out.

"you arent throwing up on anything else!" ernst groans. he turns to us. "sorry, i need to take care of this."

"'this'? i can hear you, yknow."

"yeah, yeah," ernst says, pushing hanschen out of the room. 

moritz sits down on the bed and i sit beside him, like when we were in his room just a few hours ago. moritz stifles a yawn.

"hm, wanna go now?"

"and show up at my moms door completely drunk?"

"oh. good point."

"she just... shes just worked so hard, melchi," moritz says, suddenly getting teary-eyed. "a-and shes just, just done such a good job raising me a-and i hope she knows that and maybe shell think shes not...not a good mom if i show up all, all drunk, and i cant deal with that, because shes the best mom in the world," moritz says, sniffling and crying now.

" _dude._ its fine. well just crash here or something. ernst wont mind."

"really?" he asks, suddenly perking up despite the tears on his face.

"yeah, really," i assure him.

"oh my god, im like, so, so lucky to have you as my friend. youre literally the best."

"yeah, i know."

"no, no, melchi. seriously. youre, youre the best, like, the actual best. ever. ever!" he exclaims, patting my back.

"moritz, youre drunk," i say.

"no. i mean, yeah, but dont just... just excuse all this cause im drunk, okay? its true! youre the best and its true! i love you so, so much man. like, so much. fuck, i love you!"

"okay, i gotcha."

moritz has been getting weepy again but for some reason he starts out-right sobbing. "oh my god, you dont love me back! oh my god! you--hic--just--hic--feel bad for me! this is the worst, the worst, melchi!" he hiccups, tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. 

"no, i love you. i do. seriously, stop crying," i say, laughing softly.

"im sorry! i just love you sooo much. oh my god, im such a shit friend! ive been so fuckin...fuckin  _mean_ to you ever since you kissed me when we were on our way home the other day and i d-didnt mean to--to hurt you but i just... i just..." he sniffles, wiping his jacket sleeve against his nose.

"okay, you might want to take that puppy off," i suggest. he shrugs the jacket off, still looking positively miserable.

"im sorry. about what i said, about you... like, trying to hurt me and break my heart or whatever," he mumbles.

i shrug. "you had every right to believe that. you still have every right to believe that. im just bad at that kinda shit. like, people and whatever. maybe id be bad with you. maybe i wouldnt. i dunno."

"youre great with people! youre like, the most popular guy in school. and you have like, fifty billion girlfriends and stuff."

"i mean, like, getting personal with someone. im not good about that. im too selfish for that shit," i tell him.

"but..." he frowns, stumped. i know im right, and so does he. "its... not really a bad thing to be selfish, you know?" he says. "its better than just... devoting yourself to other people. like me."

"like you? when have you ever devoted yourself to someone else, huh?" i snort.

"well, to you. youre my everything," he slurs. "and you dont even give a fuck, and you just... uhm, you just, like... what is it? what is it, when you like someone more than they like them?"

"well, it doesnt matter what is, cause i do like you, dumbass."

"promise?"

"promise."

he grins at me, and hugs me to him. i didnt realize how bone-crushing moritzs hugs could be, to be honest. i struggle a bit and he lessens his hold and we stay like that for a few moments before he lets go. 

"you know i really like you," moritz says.

"i know."

"no... like..." moritz chews on the inside of his cheek, looking thoughtful. "i want you to kiss me. why dont you kiss me?"

"what?"

"kiss me," moritz insists, grabbing my hands and squeezing them. "im telling you to. i want you too."

"moritz, youre drunk..." i say, trailing off. he looks so determined, his gaze so pleading. fuck. i dont want to say no, but were drunk. well regret it.

"so?" he says. getting impatient with me, he goes ahead and leans in to kiss me. i want to lean back or push him away, but i dont. i let him kiss me, and i kiss back. well, shit. so much for the whole dont-do-anything-until-were-sober plan.

moritz is an even sloppier kisser when hes drunk and i feel like were getting saliva everywhere. its incredibly disgusting, if im being honest. at first i think im so drunk and so into moritz that i dont care (after all, ive been fantasizing about this for ages) but i have to push moritz away.

"melchi?" he whines.

"i love you, but you are an incredibly shitty kisser," i tell him. he looks hurt. "like, less tongue, man. please? i dont want to feel like im making out with a fucking dog. maybe ill teach you how to kiss when were sober," i hum.

"let me learn now," he huffs, grabbing me by the shirt and kissing me deeply. i feel happy, a dizzy sort of happy. the alcohol, moritz, everything, its amazing. so amazing. i dont want to stop, and its fortunately very easy to keep going since moritz heeds my advice about tongue.

i feel his hands lifting my shirt and i pull away, letting him pull the piece of clothing off me. we go back to kissing, his hands roaming over my chest and my stomach, sending the most pleasant chills down my body. i let my lips leave his and he murmurs a protest, quieting down as my lips trail along his jaw and his neck. he sighs softly.

"be quiet. im trying to kiss all of you," i mumble against his skin. he sighs again, this time louder. "youre the fuckin worst."

he laughs, and i go back to moving my lips against his. his hands move through my hair roughly as i trace circles with my thumb on his thigh. he mumbles something that i make out to be some version of my name against my lips as i move my hand up. he pulls his lips away from mine, but keeps the short, barely-there distance from us.

"hey, melchi?" he whispers.

"mhm?"

"can we have sex?"

"why?"

"because i want to. does there have to be a fuckin reason?" 

"yeah, yeah, okay," i mumble. we go back to kissing for a few seconds before i pause, pushing moritz off of me. "you dont have any lube, do you?"

"no! what kind of person just carries around a bottle of lube? why would you think im that person?!"

"stop, oh my god, i was just asking, fuck," i say, rubbing the back of my neck. "uhm. okay. well, do you want to look through the drawers or something...?"

"the dr--? NO. melchi, oh my god, no, i cant use ernsts parents lube. do they even have lube? oh, god, now im thinking about ernsts parents having sex," he says, incredibly alarmed. he brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing it as he groans.

"go look!" i say shortly.

"why dont you?"

"because..." i pause. "ugh, no, now im thinking about them doing it too."

"shit!" moritz exclaims. i start laughing uncontrollably at the situation. "no! stop fucking laughing!"

"im sorry," i whine. "its just funny."

he glares at me. after a second of holding eye contact he cracks a smile.

"want to use spit? people do that, right?"

moritz looks horrified. "no, no. oh my god, no."

"okay, no sex, then. sorry sweetheart, looks like youre out of luck."

"aaaawwwww, man," he grumbles. "this blows."

"you know what else blows?"

"i dont want a blowjob, im just super sad now," he says, laying onto his back. i lay down with him. "im sad. im so sad. i want to have sex with you," he says again.

"holy shit, are you crying?"

"im horny and sad!" he whimpers. "stop judging me!"

"dont ask the impossible of me," i tease, poking his sides. he laughs, tears still staining his face. he rolls over, cuddling into me.

"im going to sleep."

"yeah, me too," i say, wrapping an arm around moritz and holding him close. i feel sleepy and warm all over, and im afraid the moment i fall asleep itll go away. moritz is out almost immediately, and i close my eyes, listening to his soft snoring. i dont even remember when i finally fall asleep, or if i ever do. all i think about is moritz, just moritz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this literally took me three hours to write because i kept getting distracted fml


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> melchior and hanschen, theyre just guys being dudes, whats better than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i always update this at 1 in the morning

"i feel like im dying."

ive barely been awake for ten minutes when moritz voice croaks out from underneath the mountain of blankets hes gathered onto the bed. my head swims in confusion when i realize im not dreaming anymore. 

_where am i? why is moritz here? whos bed is this? this isnt my bed. wait, holy fuck, this isnt my house._

i sit up straight, stretching my legs out onto the mattress. morning light filters into the room, tinging my vision with a nostalgic glow, highly encouraged from my sleepy state of mind. that seems to clear my mind a bit, because i recall last night easily -- hanschen throwing up, my voice getting hoarse from urging ernst to do some shots, moritz crying a lot, making out with moritz... yep, fun times. i glance over at where moritz has burrowed into the comforters and then back to the window. 

unfortunately, moritz stiefel, as ive already established, is a complete nerd. worse than that, hes not even the _smart_ kind. hes just this do-good, joyous little pushover that will let anyone and everyone step all over him. hes not like me; he lacks my unique knack at getting into fights both physical and verbal. he doesnt have the right attitude to pair with his good looks, plus he spent the majority of his high school career battling acne and grades, making him a complete shut-in. hes not really someone to be invited to parties; really, hes more a last minute thought that you send out a quick text to because you feel bad he might be all alone that evening while everyone he knows is getting fucked up.

moritz and alcohol are not something that mix exceedingly well, from what ive observed by his minimal experience with the substance. im not sure hes ever had a hangover, though. thisll probably be rough on him.

i peel away a blanket that covers his face and he winces instantly, groaning loudly. "hey, i think you over did it a bit last night, buddy."

"my heads exploding," he whispers.

"yeah, well, im not feeling so hot either," i admit, rubbing his shoulders a bit, almost like im trying to shake him awake. "you want to get up?"

"no," he whimpers. "leave me be. let me die here," he groans, quickly grabbing at the cover i had pushed away and moving deeper into the comforter cocoon he had formed.

i slide off of the bed, standing up and letting myself lean against the mattress for a few seconds before moving to the window. i shut the blinds, although im not sure it makes much of a difference for moritz, considering his layers block out pretty much any light source. i make my way to the bathroom and find a plastic trash can. fortunately, it seems that hanschens vomit went into the toilet and not this thing. i carry it over with ease to moritzs bedside. "throw up in the trash can." i cant hear his muffled reply.

i move over to the nightstand, where i guess sometime between entering the room and falling asleep i had left my phone. i have a few missed calls from my mom, along with a text. i send back a message saying i slept over at hanschens with moritz; almost immediately she says she found that out from moritzs own mom a bit after her panic trying to contact me. i lie further and say we had all walked to school together, knowing full well none of us were going to make it even a few feet out the door.

seeing nothing more to do here, i exit the robels bedroom and explore the rest of the house. the damage isnt horrible, but ernst (and, i guess moritz, hanschen, and i, since were still around) will have a less than a stellar time cleaning everything up and getting various stains out of furniture and carpet. it doesnt look like anythings broken, so thats a plus.

i go back down the hall, this time making an early right turn into ernsts bedroom. the door is shut; i suspect hanschen was too drunk to really get anything going and if worse comes to worse, ive seen them both naked before, so i push open the door.

im greeted by hanschen sprawled out across ernsts bed, a blanket draped over him as he watches tv on mute on his side. only his boxer briefs remain on his finely sculpted body. his hair is messy and sticky from day-old product, some of it hanging sadly in front of his face. dark circles make his already light green eyes and pale face look ghostly. but still, he looks pretty good for a guy who was running the risk of choking on his own throw-up just hours ago.

"wheres ernst?" i ask, entering the room. i sit down on the carpeted floor, leaning against the bed. my eyes go to the tiny tv thats settled on a polished drawer. it looks like infomercials are being played, and considering it must be at least the afternoon already, i think hanschen stumbled across a channel that plays them 24/7. 

"i think he said he was cleaning," hanschen replies. i look over at him, but his eyes havent moved from the screen in the slightest. i guess a woman attempting to slice bread with a door stop is a lot more interesting than this conversation.

"oh. i guess i missed him," i say. maybe hes in the bathroom or something.

"nice show you have going on here." hanschen doesnt reply. silence stretches between us as we continue to watch the muted infomercials. a part of me wants to get up and click to another channel, but another part of me is entranced by watching middle-aged white people continuously fuck up at daily tasks with zero sound.

the silence allows me to think about all thats happened from friday to today. i keep getting stuck on last night as i flip through my memories. it dawns on me, while watching bad tv with an underwear-clad hanschen, that i have fucked up big time with moritz. i suddenly feel like such an asshole and an idiot. he wasnt thinking straight, he was super drunk, and i shouldnt have kissed him, even if he kissed me first. even if he asked. because now hes going to realize what a big mistake hes -- weve -- made, too. the thought keeps me glued to the floor, unwilling to face the hungover moritz again.

i try to think about other things, but its hard when what im watching lacks any and all stimulation. eventually, i find my thoughts land on hanschen.

"hanschen?" i say.

"yeah?"

"you and ernst... youre a thing?" i ask, looking over at the blond.

he gives me a wide smirk, and moves a hand to push the hair out of his eyes. "why? are you jealous, gabor?"

"fuck no," i scoff.

"i wouldnt get over me either," hanschen muses airily.

"oh my god, no. youre a good fuck, but everything about you makes me want to fight you."

"the feelings mutual. too bad im a taken man, or we could have some really awesome hate sex right now."

"so, you two are dating?" i jump right back onto the subject. its just odd to see someone like hanschen settle down, even for a bit. unlike me, hes incredibly picky with dating. i think his only other official relationship was with ilse, back in middle school or something like that, and she turned out to be a lesbian. "i cant believe it. hanschen rilow, in love."

"loves a strong word," hanschen says. "but i guess were boyfriends. _wow_ , that sounds gay," he muses. "ernsts nice, i guess."

"is the sex good?"

"god, yes. hes, like, this innocent cute little thing, but the minute you get him in bed, hes a complete slut. its insane," he laughs.

"sounds perfect for you," i say.

"the one problem is, he wants to be a pastor or something. its just, not really romantic when he mentions god or bible study or some shit," he snorts. "its just a downer sometimes. but its not like im going to stay here forever, either. college will give me plenty of cute boys to mess around with. ill keep myself busy," he purrs. "how about you, melchior? are you bringing this up because you finally got with moritz?"

"what?" i say, alarmed. "wait, who told you that me and--? no! my god, no, i didnt, we didnt, _no_."

hanschens laughing. "no need to get so flustered, jesus christ. its just really obvious moritz has a big gay crush on you and i sorta thought a little alcohol in him might do the trick."

"you think he has a crush on me?" i ask, raising a brow. i dont know why im so skeptical about the idea of moritz reciprocating my feelings. for fucks sake, he made it very clear what he wanted last night. but im not sure if it was the alcohol playing with his mind or what. its not like straight guys cant experiment.

"obviously," hanschen says, rolling his eyes. "he talks about you nonstop. its annoying, really. hes one of those guys that just needs a little push out of the closet, yknow? like how birds do with the babies and the nest and all that."

"you think?"

"yeah. why, you want him?"

i shrug. "what if i told you i do?"

"id say ernst called it," he says with a sparkling white grin, his knowing, sharp gaze making me blush.

"do you  _want_ me to punch you?" i hiss.

"melchior, i already told you, im off the market. this flirting is completely inappropriate."

"oh, shut up."

he laughs as i get up and move towards the door.

"hey, melchi," he calls. i turn at the sound of my nickname, his voice being more real. "its gonna be tough sometimes, but itll be all worth it, wherever you two end up. okay?"

"okay, but your genuine concern for me and my love life is completely unheard of and sort of freaking me out."

i leave the room, barely missing a pillow launched my way.

**Author's Note:**

> mELCHIRITZ. is. my. life. aaagh.  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
